


(En)Closure, The Miscellaneous Archive

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson)



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga), Hikaru no Go
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11371071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays
Summary: (The collection of loosely related snippets and ficlets set in the (En)Closure 'verse. Originally posted on tumblr.)





	1. (2015-02-27) ficlet

**That’s the kid.**

The one with the bleached hair? Ah, I see what you mean… Yeah, you were right. This is my kind of job.

**Of course I’m right. Who do you think you got your skills from?**

Well, you may be my grandfather but I’m a lot better at this than you are. Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking for my help, you decrepit old monkey.

**Such disrespect! Ha! Just how I taught you.**

Of course. But seriously–I’m not charging you for this, however if I do take this job you have to follow all the rules I give my clients, grandfather or not.

**Rules? Can’t be too difficult.**

It really isn’t, or shouldn’t be, but you’d be surprised at how poorly my clientele follow directions. I hope you won’t be added to that.

**Lay it on me.**

First, you have to listen to what I say. If I tell you to hold your breath, you do not breathe. If I tell you to destroy something, you break it and set the pieces on fire. If I tell you to–

**Yeah, I get it.**

Second, you need to stick to your goals. Once you set those goals you can’t turn back, I will be working to meet them so no regrets and no changing them mid-job.

**Ah, that I may need help with.**

I can help you create a list of what the possible results and situations may be, but you have to be the one to get your priorities in order.

**Okay.**

And third, the living get to live. The dead are here at my leisure. If there’s any sign that that kid is being possessed against his will or if it’s hurting him, then I’m performing an exorcism regardless of if that ghost is some kind of once in a lifetime genius. He already had his lifetime, he doesn’t get to steal another from someone else. Got it?

**Yeah. I’d exorcise him myself if it were like that.**

Please, you don’t have the juice to exorcise a goldfish much less a centuries old ghost. You weren’t even sure if there was a ghost involved. Eyesight going already? How will you play your board game?

**Little brat, a real player doesn’t need to see the board to win.**

Hm… Speaking of, set up a game with the kid. I need to get a closer read on both of them; don’t want to approach them cold. Can you do that?

**Are you joking? I’m Kuwabara-Honinbou, if an insei won’t agree to play a game with me I might as well hand over my title to that upstart Ogata.**


	2. (2015-03-01) ficlet

If her life was a book, she would tell you to skip the beginning. It was repetitive and bland and didn’t have much of a plot. Her ending wouldn’t be such a good read either–though there were moments of suspense and terror, it featured mostly frustration, helplessness, and bitter resignation. And she’s pretty sure towards the end she wasn’t even a main character.

Then again, she could argue that most her life she wasn’t the main character. Even in the middle which would be her favorite. That part she’d reread if she could–relive if she could–filled as it was with excitement and laughter. There were times when it felt quotidian, tedious even, but it was tempered with contentment. There was frustration then, too, and drama, but the kind that could be resolved with hard work and communication. It was the middle of her life when she was satisfied. Such a shame that it ended so poorly.


	3. (2015-03-07) ficlet

The day Kuwabara-Honinbou asks to play a game against an insei is a memorable one. The Institute had never experienced such a thing before, weren’t sure if they should make it an official match or not, if they should offer the Room of Profound Darkness and whether they should have reporters covering it. A title holder challenging an insei? Unimaginable!

The other professional players were ambivalent, some had thought Kuwabara had finally gone off his rocker (it took him long enough, one Ogata-Juudan could be heard muttering). After all, why else would he have a young woman shadowing his steps for the past week? Others thought it was a refreshing change of pace, perhaps the old coot was finally going to take on an apprentice. Touya-Meijin very pointedly remained silent on the matter, though Touya-Nidan had, what could only be described as, _bristled_ when asked for his opinion.

Meanwhile, the insei practically exploded. It was one thing for one of their own to brag about being rivals with the Go Prince, Touya Akira, it was another for him to be specifically picked out by a title-holder to play a game.

And as the Go world turned into a frenzy, those at the eye of the storm were calm if a little confused and annoyed.

As the Institute finally gets their act together, deciding not to offer the Room of Profound Darkness but still providing a venue. The goban is set on a slightly raised stage, cameras set up to project the game onto a screen so the small audience of professionals, insei, and reporters can see without crowding the two players. On the stage are the stars of the event, Kuwabara-Honinbou and Shindou Hikaru, and one other person much to the consternation of the others gathered. She has the best vantage point, and yet spends the entire match staring at empty air behind the insei. Those who are there for the go game try to ignore the third person on the stage.

For Shindou Hikaru, the day Kuwabara-Honinbou asks to play a game against him is a memorable one, too, but for a different reason. Because he finally meets someone else who can see Sai, the effortlessly ignored fourth person on the stage.


	4. (2015-03-08) ficlet

The match ended, unsurprisingly, with the insei’s defeat. It was a decent showing on the his part, definite shodan quality, but nothing on par with a title-holder. With the status quo maintained, the world of Go pretended the event didn’t happen… for the most part. While the professionals and the press continued on with their lives, the insei were still reeling from the game–from the possibilities implied by the game.

No one honestly expected Shindou to win, of course, but the fact that he was asked to play by a title-holder made him even more notorious than his supposed rivalry with Touya Akira. It didn’t help that, after the match had concluded, Kuwabara-Honinbou had said, “Not bad, brat. If you want to play again without the Institute making a fuss like headless chickens, you let me know,” And the fact that Kuwabara’s assistant could frequently be seen around the Institute, even without the presence of said title-holder. It made rumors of a supposed apprenticeship fly.

While an apprenticeship was not on the table, the young woman was what was on Hikaru’s mind. And Sai’s. Beyond the startling, steady gaze during the game, and the brief glances since then, she hadn’t made any other moves. But they both knew she could see Sai: she was able to track the ghost’s movements, even as minimal as walking to Hikaru’s other side. It was unnerving.

But, at the same time, it was a bit of a relief when she finally walked up and introduced herself. Considering that Waya still occasionally waxed poetical over his NetGo game with sai, and would probably go off at any hint of the mystery player, it was even more of a relief that she had done it out of earshot of the other insei

“Shindou Hikaru. I’m Kuwabara Haru, medium. It’s nice to properly meet you… and your friend.”


	5. (2015-03-22) ficlet

“It’s just a bit odd, that’s all,” says Haru, the girl who has the ability to see ghosts and regularly solves cold cases with said ability.

Hikaru, the boy who, as far as they can tell, can only see just one ghost but who is involved in mistaken identity drama within the setting of a professional board game community, just glares back. Then gives up and sighs in agreement because he used to be a normal kid and he has to admit that it is odd.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Haru adds, pointedly towards the third participant of the conversation–Sai, the ghost–before he can feel insulted, “It’s cool that everyone’s so passionate about this. Passion is rare, and sometimes it results in terrible crimes, but it’s nice that you guys are so passionate about something that also makes you happy.”

The three of them are at a ramen stand not too far from the Go Institute. The chef, having known Haru for at least two months, does not find it alarming that she seems to be talking to multiple people when there is only one. Nor does the chef, having known Hikaru for at least a year, find alarming the sudden whole body jerk sideways or occasional arm-flailing or even persistent staring at empty air. They are odd kids, but good ones, excellent customers and decent entertainment, beside.

Hikaru and Sai both blush with flattered embarrassment, the former rubbing a hand at the back of his neck the latter hiding demurely behind his fan. Haru laughs congenially.

“And how goes your battle against evil-doers?” Sai asks, honestly curious. He’s never had two people see him before, so while his enthusiasm for Go is sated with Hikaru’s insei lifestyle, his interest for the rest of the modern world can be explored through Haru.

“Yeah, anything newsworthy? Oh, but hey, don’t go following shady guys in black at amusement parks,” Hikaru jokes.

Sai, obviously not getting the reference, nods solemnly in agreement at such wise if strangely specific advice.

Haru responds by kicking at his ankle lightly, “I’m not Detective Conan. Ugh, I can only imagine if on top of everything else I get turned into a child,”

“Yeah, that’s too many tropes at once,”

“And plus, you play soccer too. If anything you’re more like a shounen manga protagonist,”

They both break into laughter while Sai, confused but in good cheer, looks on.

“But, well, honestly? The cases have been kind of boring lately. Pretty open shut, simple you know? There’s more hassle in actually getting the cases than solving them. It’s easier to just hang out here and wait for them to call me. It’s relaxing…” Then, thinking about Hikaru’s situation, laughs again, “… if odd.”

“The other insei still won’t stop bugging me about your grandfather,” Hikaru grumbles.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they think he wants me as his apprentice or something. Morishita-sensei keeps telling me not to betray the study group whenever I see him,”

“They also think he has arranged a betrothal between the two of you,” Sai interjects, before hiding his own chuckle at their bewildered faces. As a ghost he has eavesdropped on some fairly amusing conversations.

“That’s so weird!” Hikaru blurts out immediately, flinching away from Haru in expectation of some kind of slap like what Akari would do.

But she doesn’t, and not because she’s more prone to kicking that slapping. Considering the actual reason why they do hang out so much… “It’s definitely more believable than the truth.”


	6. (2015-07-12) ficlet

“You know,” Haru starts, which is a terrible sign because whenever she starts a sentence with that phrase it always ends up with Hikaru in trouble, “I could help with the whole NetGo thing,” she offers lightly, hardly a catch or trap in sight.

“You don’t even play Go,” Hikaru automatically responds, which Haru chooses not to verbally react to. Instead she swipes the last of the ajitsuke eggs, relishing in both the flavor and his protesting squawk. She’s the one paying, so technically they’re all hers anyway.

They then spend the next minute or so kicking at each other’s ankles. Because they are the epitome of maturity.

“That did not stop you in the beginnings of our relationship. Haru-san is as capable of placing stones where I point as you are.” Sai scolds, as exasperated with their antics as he is internally amused. Probably.

“Ugh, fine, that would be really helpful.” Hikaru grumbles around a mouth full of ramen. “What do you want in exchange?”

“Wow, rude,” Haru says facetiously, not referring to his terrible table manners, “What if I just want to help you out of the goodness of my heart.”

Even Sai has a skeptical expression on his face.

“Okay, so maybe there’s a case that involves the principal’s office at an all boy’s school and I can no longer convincingly cross dress as a teenage boy.”

Sai, out of politeness, does not let his gaze travel away from her face. Hikaru, out of well trained fear, does the same. But he does protest the arrangement loudly, “No way! There’s a reason I stopped going to school as soon as I could, okay, I’m not going back!”

“You don’t have to actually attend the school, just maybe, you know, call them and make it sound like you’re considering going back and that their school is on your list of potential options. I’m sure they’d be honored to have one of Igo’s young celebrities attend their fine establishment,” she smirks, voice lilting up into a lofty proclamation.

Hikaru grumbles, trying to play the hard sell, but with Sai obviously accepting the trade and eagerly poking him in the shoulder, she knows he’s going to give in: “Ten NetGo games when I choose and you buy me lunch for a week.” He declares, trying to eke out as much as he could.

“Three games when I choose, and I buy you lunch all the time anyway you giant gaping stomach of a leech.” She counters, flicking a crumpled up straw wrapper at him.

“Five matches, times agreed on by all of us, and you really should start contributing to purchasing meals, Hikaru, it isn’t proper,” Sai cuts in before they can devolve into a childish scuffle.

“She makes more than I do!” says Hikaru, the fifteen year old professional Go player.

“Not for long, Mr. I’m going to get the Honinbou title from your grandpa before creepy Ogata can,” says Haru, the seventeen year old professional medium and private investigator, “you should hurry on that, by the way. Grandpa’s getting up there in the years and Ogata is getting desperate.”

“Do try speaking about your elders with respect,” says Sai, the thousand year old ghost.

The two living participants of the conversation meet eyes and, after a beat, start laughing uproariously. As if.


	7. (2015-08-31) ficlet

They fight all the time. It’s in their nature, it’s how they communicate. They don’t speak to each other, they bicker with each other. They don’t talk, they argue. Kicks and shoves are far more common than hugs, but at least it’s done with a smile. They don’t really mean any harm, no true ill-intent behind barbed words.

Except for this time.

“You didn’t even ask me!” Hikaru shouts, and rather than drawing in close he pulls away, turns his back towards her.

Because he knows she will yank him around, demand he look her in the face.

“It wasn’t your decision to make!” Haru screams back, hand fisted in his obnoxiously yellow shirt so he can’t run away.

“He was mine before he was ever yours!” His own hand grips tightly around her wrist, squeezing, and no doubt there will be a bruise there tomorrow.

“Sai was his own person, you have no claim over–”

“He was my friend–”

“He was my friend, too!” She cries out, because surely there is no other word for it; for this raw empty feeling scraping it’s way out of her throat, burning in her eyes.

Hikaru, too, is crying, tears dripping wetly down his cheeks, to his chin.

There is no silence between them, even now, when they are angry and have no words. There are the sobs of their mutual mourning, which gradually transform in hysterical laughter. Guffaws wracking their lungs and aches in their ribs so strong they have to lean against each other to stay standing.

They must look like a couple of lunatics, laughing and crying in the middle of the sidewalk.

“He was my friend and he didn’t even say goodbye,” Hikaru says, finally, somber and silent and lost.

It’s the medium in Haru that makes her say, “He knew that in you his purpose was fulfilled,” but it’s the friend Haru that says, “He was proud of you, Hikaru, so proud. But he needed to go while he still had the ability to choose for himself.”

And while I was still around to help him move on, she doesn’t say.

“Let go of my shirt,” Hikaru mutters, wiping at his face with his arm.

“Let go of my wrist,” Haru shoots back, suddenly drained. When he does, she rotates her hand gently, wincing at the pins and needles and the rushing blood of injury, “You asshole, this is going to bruise. I’m going to look so unprofessional tomorrow. Ugh, as if I didn’t already have problems with them taking me seriously.” She grumbles, thinking of her upcoming job with an actual police task force.

“Sorry,” Hikaru says, sincerely enough that she is mollified. He looks away, guiltily.

“Hey,” Haru says, bumping her shoulder roughly against his. Now that he’s taller than her, it doesn’t knock him over like it used to, but it gets him to sway and look up at her startled, “You’re my friend even if you are an asshole. Actually… you’re probably my friend because you’re an asshole.”

Hikaru make a face at her, before nudging her back in agreement.

“Sai was my friend, too, and I’m sorry that I’m part of the reason he’s not around anymore. But he asked me, and I couldn’t say no,” Haru braces herself for a second round of fighting, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, Hikaru is smiling, sideways and soft and sad but still smiling, “We can miss him together. For the rest of our lives, until we meet up with him again,” he says, and that’s so like him that Haru doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’ll be a lot sooner for her than for him.

That’s what happens when you join a task force to catch a killer.


	8. (2016-02-06) ficlet

Haru meets her first shinigami the same time she meets L and the person behind Kira, so needless to say it’s an overwhelming experience and she does not hold her reaction against herself.

Of course, she can never tell Hikaru about it because he does not need any more ammunition in their eternal war to embarrass each other. But still, it was a perfectly reasonable reaction. Mild, relative to other occasions. Understandable, even.

Ultimately, though? A terrible first impression.

Because the last thing a person wants to do their first day on the job is to scream at thin air then puke on their boss.

Mostly she’s surprised L kept her on the task force, more so that he’s sticking to the, frankly, exorbitant consulting fee negotiated in her contract. But apparently he sees something in her–her closing rate, probably–that inspires enough confidence as to erase that disastrous initial meeting.

—

L really thought Haru Kuwabara would turn out to be a fake–he’s disappointed that she isn’t.

It’s not that he was hoping for her to be a charlatan, for all of her supposed solved crimes to be incorrect. Rather, he had wondered if perhaps she was like him–a detective beyond par, enacting justice but using an eccentric cover so as not to have to answer to the tedious ways of the law. That the title of medium was just a tool and not her actual identity.

L had hoped that he would find, if not an equal, then at least another potential heir.

This was not the case. Haru Kuwabara was not like L, using logic to find the truth where everyone else only found mysteries. No, Haru Kuwabara had seen something that no one else did–her pupils had dilated in response to a perceived threat–had reacted to something so thoroughly as to empty her stomach on his person. There was only a 0.3% chance that was premeditated.

No, Haru Kuwabara is the real deal–an actual medium capable of seeing actual ghosts and bringing them closure by solving their murders.

How boring.

—

Ryuku laughs for seven hours straight after the newest member of the Kira task force is introduced, and it is only the fourth most annoying thing about the day.

The third being that Kuwabara was very clearly able to see Ryuku and possibly even hear him–given her reactions to the shinigami’s grating laugh and flippant comments. The second being that, even covered in her vomit, L had decided to keep her. But the most annoying thing of today?

Kuwabara is not named after springtime.

Perhaps out of deference to her famous grandfather or maybe her youth during the cases, her first name is never written in police reports. And while Light knows her name is pronounced Haru, her few public records have it written in katakana–not acceptable to the Death Note as her true name.

Which means that Light either has to bribe Ryuku into giving him her name–unlikely, considering how amusing the shinigami seems to be by this situation. Or he has to charm it out of her–again, unlikely, seeing as how he’s fairly certain she knows he’s Kira because of Ryuku. Or he has to have Misa get it and convince her to kill Kuwabara for him.

The last option is the most likely to succeed, but given it requires him to suffer through the role of being Misa Misa’s boyfriend, it may supersede the rage inducing irritation of the day by itself.

No, Light will leave that option for last. Or at least, until he can devise a way to do it without having to go on a date with Misa.

Truthfully, he’d much rather date Kuwabara instead.


	9. (En)Closure (the Stars In His Eyes remix)

Sai has barely begun telling his story before he is rudely interrupted by Hikaru. It is something that he will grow accustomed to in a bewilderingly short amount of time.

“Does this mean I can see ghosts now?” Hikaru asks, looking at his own hands in amazement as if that will explain his sudden supernatural ability.

“Perhaps it is–”

“Or is it only you,” Hikaru continues, turning his gaze toward Sai, narrow eyed and suspicious, “Because if it’s the first one then that means I have a cool new skill that I can do stuff with. But if it’s the second one, then that probably means I’m possessed and you need to exorcised.”

In the bare handful of hours that Sai has known Hikaru, he already knows this: children in these times are willful or, at the very least, Hikaru is. Which means it’s not an idle threat.

There were onmyouji in Sai’s time–and in Torajiro’s time, too–no doubt there are still some to this day. No doubt they could very well exorcise Sai, and how will he play Go then?

“No!”

Hikaru’s face only pinches up into even more suspicion.

“I, that is,” Sai rescinds, “I am sure such a thing is not needed. Yours is a fledgling talent, perhaps I am meant to teacher you.”

After all, Sai was an instructor for both the Emperor and Torajiro. No doubt, he is meant to do the same for Hikaru. He just didn’t specify which talent; it’s not a lie.

Hikaru considers for a moment, then nods, “You better not be as annoying as Navi.”

A non sequitur, but seeing as how it’s not an outright refusal, Sai will take it and gladly.

Then, Hikaru cheers, “Let’s go find some more ghosts!”

**(It’s at this point that Sai realizes he has very little control over what happens next. This is also something that he will grow accustomed to soon enough.)**

—

Given the sheer size, population, and history of Tokyo finding supposedly haunted places is easy.

Getting into them is another story.

“This is the… fifth time, Shindou-kun,” Ueno, the unimpressed police officer, says way more exasperated than the situation calls for. It’s not like Hikaru was actually doing anything wrong besides, maybe, the whole trespassing thing.

“I didn’t know it was private property?” Hikaru tries, because it worked pretty well the first time and decently the second…

And then it got less effective each time. Apparently, going by Ueno’s expression, it’s not going to fly at all this time. Especially since she was the same officer that found him three of the other times.

Sai, too, has gotten used to inside of the small police station–no longer flitting from desk to desk and asking about each little detail while Hikaru tries not to answer out loud. Getting brought in for trespassing is one thing–he doesn’t want the police to think he’s crazy.

This whole ‘seeing ghosts thing’ is way harder than he though it would be.

“You’re…” A grimace flashes across Ueno’s face, before quickly fading into carefully crafted calmness. “Is there a reason why you don’t want to be at home, Hikaru-kun?”

If anyone else were able to see Sai, they’d know that both he and Hikaru had shared a quick glance of mutual confusion.

“… No?” Then because it looks like that won’t be enough of an answer to satisfy Ueno, he admits sullenly, “I just wanted to see if that place was really haunted.”

“Oh god, not another one,” Ueno blurts out, horrified at the prospect and herself. One desk away, another officer bursts out laughing.

Again, confusion.

“I’m not saying I believe,” Ueno begins, rummaging through her desk for something, “but the number of cases solved speaks for itself.”

She then hands Hikaru a business card with a phone number on one side and two lines on the other:

KUWABARA  
Consulting Medium

“Pretentious, isn’t it?” Ueno says with a shrug, “But I’d rather have you call her than have you running around unsupervised.”

“That’s like telling one puppy to guard the other,” says Ueno’s fellow officer, “Though puppies wouldn’t charge each other an arm and a leg for it.”

At the, no doubt, blatant confusion, Ueno explains, “Kuwabara is a teenager, too.”

Everything goes back on track–Ueno letting him off with yet another warning, though this time far more stern and believable–and when Hikaru and Sai leave the station they both decide to stop trespassing in their search for other ghosts.

When Hikaru doesn’t throw the card away, but he definitely shoves it in a pile of random stuff in his room and forgets about it immediately. He doesn’t need to meet some other psychic kid who’ll just boss him around.

**(They’ll end up meeting each other in a few months, anyway, but as an insei and the Honinbou’s granddaughter. She definitely ends up bossing him around.)**

—

The second ghost Hikaru sees isn’t haunting a place but a person. A weird blonde guy in a white suit who has a job involving Go because that’s how Hikaru’s life works, apparently.

Hikaru doesn’t realize it’s a ghost, at first. Actually, if it weren’t for the fact that no one else could sense Sai, Hikaru probably would have thought that he was just a weirdo wearing really old-fashioned clothing.

The second ghost’s clothes isn’t nearly so out of date, but it’s definitely not something a kid would wear now. Because that’s what the ghost is–a kid.

At first, Hikaru thought it was a just that blonde guy’s son or something, just some kid making comically exaggerated disgusted faces as the adults next to him flirt. That is, until one of adults’ arms swings right through the kid’s head.

Hikaru stares.

The kid–the ghost–stares back.

At least until the blonde guy walks away, the ghost following as if compelled, into some building which, aggravatingly, kids aren’t allowed into unless they’re insei or, apparently, ghosts.

Sai is perhaps a bit too enthusiastic to voice the obvious solution.

And far too pleased when Hikaru grudgingly goes along with it.

**(Hand of God or Destiny? Do all roads lead to the same place?)**


	10. (2016-12-05) ficlet

Haru waits in the lobby of the Institute, sitting in the chair she’s claimed as hers and which no one has said otherwise. Despite the heating and her coat, she’s still cold–gusts of chilly air blasting every time the doors open.

The receptionist gives her commiserating glances whenever that happens, and gave her tea which she has long since drained.

She stares at the dregs, almost in a daze. What has her life come to that she willingly sits in the cold lobby of the Go Institute for over an hour? She used to do things, didn’t she? Surely her entire life hasn’t been this chair in this room in this building, an eternity of waiting surrounded by go paraphernalia interspersed with air blasting from the depths of the iciest of all hells.

Maybe she should move.

Haru stands to leave, startling the receptionist who had the glassy eyed look of someone contemplating the same monotonous, endless future of go that she had been.

The sky outside has long since gone dark, street lights and store signs bright and flashing up, pedestrians bundled up and walking, huddled, despite the lack of crowd.

It feels daunting, all of a sudden, frightening. Leave? Go outside? Where she’ll have to brave the cold all by herself?

The elevator doors open, the sound of chatter crescendoing, a group of teenagers sharing their passion.

Haru freezes, not from the temperature but from the sudden wave of embarrassment that washes over her. Lineage aside, this isn’t her space. This place isn’t for her. Their passion isn’t hers (does she even have a passion?) She is the intruder here. No, not even an intruder, a beggar loitering where she doesn’t belong.

“Kuwabara!” Hikaru calls out and another, stronger wave of shame pummels her–now she can’t even escape without notice.

Hikaru’s familiar two-toned head bobs weaves it’s way out of the group, Sai’s ghostly form following after. The other insei have paused, all of them staring at her then trying to pretend they aren’t. She’d hoped that the weird secondhand infamy from her grandfather would have worn off by now, but clearly she was underestimating the effect of the Honinbou title.

“Shindou,” she greets back, voice almost hollow. She nods a silent greeting to Sai who grins back–she’s explained that nonverbal communication is preferable to looking like a crazy person.

“What’s up? Why are you here?” Hikaru asks, “Oh, are you waiting for your gramps?” he adds, heedless of the way the other insei flinch at his irreverence.

“Ah, no,” Haru responds, almost shy, “I had a job in the area and remembered that the insei classes were letting out soon.”

The receptionist is clearly baffled at her lie.

Hikaru is more observant than people give him credit for outside of go, or perhaps she’s just being obvious, but he looks at her and nods, turns back to his insei friends and says, “Hey, maybe next time, okay guys?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Come on, Kuwabara, let’s get ramen,” Hikaru interrupts brightly, as if everything about this situation weren’t horrifically awkward; just a different flavor for this terrible day.

Sai, keen and kind in his own way, puts his spectral hands on her shoulders and guides her out the door.

With two people by her side, intangible though one of them may be, the night doesn’t seem so daunting anymore. Puffs of steam emanating from each exhale as they walk beside each other, huddled, to the ramen stand.


	11. a softer ficlet (2017-04-29)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part of the [a softer ask box](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11406585) event

_[…](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=938) _  
_[ I think I’ve got fireflies](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=938) _  
_[ where my caution should be.](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=938) _  
_[ (Instead of slowing down, I just shine brighter)](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=938) _

—

She is seven when she solves her first case.

Though, admittedly, it is a bit of a stretch to call that her first case, and she was five weeks away from being eight.

Still, it looks more impressive on her resumé. Or it would if she had one.

Regardless, she is seven and dressed in all black, holding her grandfather’s hand and shifting impatiently on her feet. Her parents have gone to speak with the bereaved, immediate family, and she doesn’t know anyone else here.

She’s bored, but not bored enough to leave her grandfather’s side, and it helps that he’s making snarky comments about the other attendees for her ears only. It’s entertaining, until he gets to,

“What are those ungrateful wretches doing here?”

Haru doesn’t quite know what a wretch is, but Grandpa’s tone has suddenly become more earnestly mean, almost hostile, and she doesn’t like it.

She tugs on his hand.

Grandpa looks down at her and visibly softens, one scruffy gray eyebrow rises, “What is it, child?”

She shrugs and points–at the two ungrateful wretches, then at the photograph at the front of the room–and then shrugs again.

She is seven and she doesn’t talk much. At all.

Still, Grandpa doesn’t much mind.

“That’s his second son and the wife, they wanted ownership of some branch office of the company and then ran it into the ground. Came back and demanded a job at the main office. They’re probably here to squeeze out whatever inheritance they can. Like vultures around a carcass.”

The old man next to them overhears, twitches, and says, “I’m not a carcass, Kuwabara, you crusty old bastard.”

She startles–that’s definitely a bad word–and looks up at the old man. The old man looks exactly like the photograph.

The old man is a ghost.

The ghost looks down at her, equally startled.

Thirty minutes later, the police have arrived to arrest the second son and his wife–both screaming about how they’ll get revenge–and her parents are staring at her bewildered.

She tugs Grandpa’s hand again, rubbing at her throat. This is the most she’s ever said at once, she thinks, and she’s awfully thirsty.

(As the years pass, Haru gets better at speaking more. She’s not better at being tactful about it, but she blames that on Grandpa).

///

 _[We talk in the dark as we fall asleep,](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=917) _  
_[ and we are objects in the night sky](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=917) _  
_[ outside of time.](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=917) _  
_[ (it is the exact opposite of alone)](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=917) _

—

Kenichi is listless when they join him, pale and lifeless, and maybe at another time she’d think it’s funny–considering he’s a ghost and all–except right now, with the expression on his face, it’s the furthest thing from it. Even his hideous shirt with neon geometric shapes seems less vibrant than usual.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, in a furtive whisper, trying to keep it within their half ghostly huddle of four.

They’re in the far corner of the lobby, about twenty feet from the smoking area, which is the outermost limit Kenichi can get from his brother. It’s also the closest Haru–as Kuwabara-Honinbou’s granddaughter–and Hikaru–as someone who has become a weird Go mystery–can get to Ogata without him looking at them strangely and walking away. And unknowingly dragging Kenichi along with him.

It takes a beat for Hikaru to notice, but Sai has picked up on it, too. He looks… understanding. Worryingly so.

Kenichi wavers before answering, “I… I think it’s time for me to move on.”


	12. (2018-02-05) ficlet

“I’m sorry for your loss,” says the girl at the scene, spinning police lights painting her face in alternating red and blue.

Makoto looks up from her paper cup of shitty tea, itchy shock blanket draped over her shoulders. She’s sitting in the back of an open ambulance–letting the EMTs ask her questions and check her pulse and shine pen lights into her eyes–even though there’s no real use for it. She’s not the one who was… hurt… and not even the fastest ambulance could have done anything for Yuuta.

She shakes off the thought desperately, focusing on the girl in front of her instead: she’s young, a teenager, too young to be here, surely. But the police officers that spoke to Makoto earlier only glance their way, no one taking notice of the teenager in trendy clothes and a string of prayer beads looped round and round her right hand.

Maybe she’s hallucinating. Maybe she’s actually in shock, imagining random girls at the spot where her husband… here. At this time.

“I know this is a lot to ask of you,” the girl adds just as Makoto is considering telling the EMTs that she’s hallucinating, “Normally I’m not called in for such recent… incidents… but I was nearby when your husband…”

The girl pauses, as if mentally chewing over her words. She takes a seat next to Makoto in the ambulance, thanking the EMT who hands her her own cup of shitty tea–which clears up the hallucination question but only raises others in how a teenage girl is on first name basis with emergency services.

“Your husband gave you something three days ago and he told you to hide it,” the girl says instead, and a chill goes down Makoto’s spine.

“How do you know?” How could anyone know about that? It was just the two of them in the house at that time.

“This was not a random accident,” the girl continues, steel in her voice. “What happened to your husband was premeditated and pointed, and I’m sorry that I cannot give you more time, but this is time sensitive and if we do not catch the person that did this to your husband, they will do the same–if not worse–to many more people.”

Makoto shuts her eyes, futilely, as if that will ward off what the girl is saying.

"Kochizaki-san, please,” the girl says, and Makoto hates this girl, hates this random girl who would dare do this to someone who is so clearly in pain, in shock, in mourning–“No, no, no, no”–

“Makoto,” the girl says, and this time… it’s still the girl’s voice. Just a normal teenage girl’s voice, but something about the tone or the cadence or something just makes her open her eyes.

“Yuuta needs you to do this. Can you do this for him?” There are detectives on the scene now, badges and suits different from the uniforms of the earlier police officers.

Detectives don’t show up for accidents.

“I will come back and explain it all to you but this must be done, and the sooner the better,” the girl says, urging.

They spot her, her and the girl who knows too much and promises too much, and head their way. Neither they or the girl look surprised.

Detectives don’t let random bystanders into active crime scenes.

“Makoto,” the girl repeats, and places her right hand on her shoulder. Maybe it’s a trick of the lights–red and blue and red and blue–but it kind of looks like the beads are glowing.

And maybe it’s just the itchy shock blanket, but it almost feels like there’s a hand on her other shoulder–a familiar, beloved hand. Makoto does not turn to look and be disappointed.

“Where did you hide the flash drive Yuuta gave you?”


	13. Ask Box Would You Ever ficlet (2018-02-12), anonymous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part of the [Ask Box Would You Ever event](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860777/chapters/31884900), Haru survives Kira

Haru kneels beside her parents and tries to focus on being the perfect image of a bereaving granddaughter.

She shuts her eyes, squeezes them tight, lets the phosphenes paint pictures behind her eyelids.

Fuck, what a horrible thought. As if she weren’t honestly grieving. As if she were just up here for looks, out of obligation, maintaining the reputation of a man already dead. Or, worse, to maintain her own reputation.

Her own stupid, useless, overblown reputation.

Gods–and they do exist, she’s seen some–she used to be so proud of that reputation.

And then look where it got her.

She takes a shaky, steeling breath and opens her eyes. Sees the crowd of faces that have come to pay their respects.

This is the first funeral she’s gone to in what seems like an eternity that had absolutely nothing to do with Kuwabara Haru, the professional medium, and instead Kuwabara Haru, the person.

—

She has nightmares sometimes.

After what she’s seen, what she’s had done to her–worse, what she had to do to others–it’s no surprise.

Her cousin Shizuru says it’s a natural reaction, her subconscious mind trying and failing to process the trauma.

Haru is pretty sure it’s punishment.

The worst nightmares are the ones in which everything is exactly the same but above everyone’s heads she sees their names and remaining times in glowing, ominous red.

—

Most of the visitors are, unsurprisingly, from the Go Institute.

Ogata-juudan, of course, who was finally able to rip the Honinbou title from her grandfather away before losing it, almost immediately.

Grandfather had laughed so hard that day, she thought he might have actually hurt himself.

The retired former Touya-Meijin and the current Touya-Meijin, and of course the current Honinbou.

She used to hate knowing so much about the Go world–had considered it an unnecessary distraction from her fate given role. Now she wishes it were still the safe and comfortable haven it used to be.

The Honinbou steps forward to give his condolences:

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Hikaru says, so bland and dry and empty.

She hates this most of all.

—

Sai was the oldest ghost she has ever and, most likely, will ever meet.

In his own way, he was also the most powerful.

He was kind and wise, caring and honest, and probably the best person she could have the honor of considering a friend, dead or alive.

She may not have destroyed him directly, but it’s because of her that his soul will never find peace.

Hikaru doesn’t know the truth.

Hikaru can’t know the truth.

—

Grandfather and Sai and Hikaru.

She misses all of them so much.


End file.
